One of Those Things
by phoenix's moon
Summary: One-hundred 100 word drabbles with a smattering of everything from introspection to headcannons to banter, spanning every season, topic, and theme imaginable. Index with summaries and genres inside. Complete as of 11/15/16.
1. Index

_Index_

* * *

Recommended Reads: Hopeless, Dreamcatcher, Roses, Clouds, Shadow, Dusk, Quest, Autumn, Walls, Spell, Fire Ball, Illogical, Summer, Courage, Battle, White, Graveyard, Apologize, Invincible, Prayer, Needles, Golden, Red/Ablaze/End

* * *

 _Feel free to browse the index or just scroll through the chapters list and play drabble roulette_ – _either way, I'm sure I have something in this bundle that might excite you. :)_

* * *

i) Introduction – _Hurt/Comfort, Angst_ – Ruby's blood is Sam's gateway drug.

ii) Poison – _Angst, Suspense_ – The Mark's winning. Dean lets go.

iii) Abandoned – _Angst, Tragedy_ – God, Mary, Vietnam, and John Winchester's alcohol.

iv) Crisis – _Humor, Friendship_ – Garth ran like the Hounds of Hell were on his ass, which, considering that their deep huffs were searing the back of his neck, was an apt description of the current situation.

v) Dream – _Family, Angst_ – "I'm sixteen, and he's helping me get my learner's permit. I have that dream every couple of months." Tag to 11x4

vi) Shooting Star – _Family, Angst_ – "What do you wish for?" A night on the road turns into an inopportune chick-flick moment.

vii) Mist – _Humor, Family_ – The perfume bottle inconspicuously sits on the Bunker's worktable amid piles of books. Tag to 11x5

viii) Hopeless – _Humor, General_ – If Dean has to have a psych eval, well, he's not going to make it easy for the doctor to diagnose him.

ix) Obsession – _General_ – Chuck may be an obsessive, frenzied writer but for him that's okay.

x) Dreamcatcher – _Family, General_ – Lisa Branden's yoga class made dreamcatchers one chilly December evening.

xi) Roses – _Tragedy, Friendship_ – "If I, say, die, can you make sure that no one brings roses to the funeral? Unless it's a hot girl. But no guys." Tag to 10x22.

xii) Clouds – _Humor, Family_ – An annoying alliterate clown commercial comes on. Dean won't just drop it.

xiii) Revenge – _Humor, Family_ – Dean finds it in himself to resurrect the Nair prank. Sam's revenge is only justified.

xiv) Insanity – _Angst, General_ – No, no, Dean's not okay. Tag to early S4.

xv) Disappear – _General_ – There's this story about this "Dean" which waitress Jenny thinks is horribly unspecific. Outsider perspective.

xvi) Shadow – _Humor, Family_ – Dean's not a dog person, but this one's growing on him.

xvii) Darkness – _Romance, Humor_ – The Darkness is kinda hot, not that Dean's telling anyone that he thinks that.

xviii) Illuminate – _Romance, General_ – The power goes out, and sometimes things between Jess and Sam are too simplistic.

xix) Dusk – _Tragedy, General_ – Jimmy Novak dies at dusk as Castiel's eyes bleed blue.

xx) Dawn – _General_ – Death comes to collect Gabriel. Fortunately, there's some fries and fast-talking involved.

xxi) Quest – _Humor, Family_ – "We have Excalibur. Does that mean that we get to quest for the Holy Grail?"

xxii) Thrilling – _Family, General_ – Balthazar and Gabriel are, as Balthazar puts it, 'both unfortunately alive'. Tag to xx) Dawn

xxiii) Pillar – _General_ – The Antichrist has a sense of self-preservation, hence his unfortunate abstention from the world's most recent apocalyptic event. Tag to "Moonshine Shots and Antichrists".

xxiv) Autumn – _General_ – Baby's in the shop, and Sam's missing her heating system. Post 11x4

xxv) Teddy Bear – _General_ – Crowley detests all kids, even the homeless brats who make deals.

xxvi) Snuff – _Angst, Tragedy_ – Tessa is numb, too numb. Tag to 9x22.

xxvii) Prism – _Humor_ – Dick's employees need to learn how to make… more workplace appropriate jokes. The (unrefined) drabble that inspired "In The Name of Dick, I Dub Thee".

xxviii) Rescue – _General_ – Crowley doesn't make it a habit to save suicide jumpers, but it happens from time to time. Purely coincidental, he assures.

xxix) Broken – _Humor, General_ – The Bunker suffers from Castiel's need to stretch.

xxx) Walls – _Humor, General_ – The walls at motels were never thick enough.

xxxi) Beautiful – _General_ – Dean's having separation issues. Post 11x4.

xxxii) Tonight – _Family, General_ – Somehow, Castiel hasn't stumbled upon Doctor Who.

xxxiii) Empty – _Humor, General_ – The Impala's trunk is not an appropriate place to store smoothies.

xxxiv) Festive – _General_ – Crowley believes the cell in the Bunker would benefit from a few Christmas lights.

xxxv) Melody – _General_ – Daisy Bell's a horrible choice of song for the death row. Tag to 11x5

xxxvi) Purple – _General_ – Some vamps just don't fit the norm.

xxxvii) Panic Switch – _General, Humor_ – "You have a panic switch inside the toilet bowl." Tag to 2x12

xxxviii) Sanctuary – _General_ – Dean's room is his sanctuary.

xxxix) Spell – _General_ – "Could you spell that for me?" Dean's alias raises some technical issues.

xl) Rejection – _Humor, General_ – Dean is the one to discover Fanfiction. Needless to say, Sam doesn't want to hear about it. M.

xli) Sword – _Family. Friends_ – When Dean suggested the Mills as a good rest house if needed, well, Claire wasn't expecting _this_. Written pre-season 11.

xlii) Love – _General, Romance_ – In more than one way, Ruby loves screwing over Sam Winchester.

xlviii) Sneeze – _General, Family_ – Sam's stubborn and Dean has to sneeze.

xliii) Yellow – _Humor, General_ – No one takes spray paint to Baby and gets away with it. No one.

xliv) Boogeyman – _General_ – "We're dealing with the boogeyman."

xlv) Downstream – _General_ – Sometimes Cas has to experience something for the greater good. Namely bedbugs.

xlvi) Fire Ball – _General, Angst_ – _It's just a dream; just a dream._ (But it isn't.)

xlvii) Challenge – _Romance, General_ – _Haniel_ , _Hannah_ ; Charlie had always adored a challenge.

xlix) Illogical – _Humor, General_ – A four year old tries to make a deal with Crowley. Double post from "Of Fairy Demonfathers."

l) Intermission – _General_ – The show must go on. Tag to the 200th episode, 10x5.

li) Overrated – _General_ – The new generation of hunters has a new way of doing things.

lii) Contagious – _General_ – Unfortunately for Crowley, humanity and basic manners are contagious.

liii) Magnificent – _Family, General_ – Crowley's not too shabby with babies. ((Written because Mark Sheppard's not too shabby of a father himself.))

liv) Summer – _Family, Humor_ – Summer arrives, and Dean is generally intolerable.

lv) Button – _Family, Hurt/Comfort_ –Lately, Castiel has had to redefine home.

lvi) Fragments – _Hurt/Comfort, General_ – A hunt turns south, and Dean's reminded of his own fragility.

lvii) Merriment – _Friendship, Family_ – When Dean's asleep… Platonic Dean/Cas.

lviii) Rising – _Angst_ , _Family_ – _It was the heat of the moment…_

lix) Blue – _General_ – "Yeah, I think he'd bitch slap Crowley."- Mark Pellegrino on Lucifer's reaction to Crowley being the King of Hell

lx) Hesitation – _Family, Humor_ – Being only a year old, Sam isn't supposed to be the one swearing.

lxi) Courage – _Family, General_ – What is courage?

lxii) Unknown – _Romance, General_ – Romance is one big unknown, something Dean hasn't done before.

lxiii) Potion – _Family, Humor_ – "What's a Binsky? Some sort of potion?" Set during Season 5's "The French Mistake".

lxiv) Faerie – _Family, General_ – "Have you ever thought about adding to Dad's journal?"

lxv) Pumpkin – _Humor, Family_ – Because every responsible adult wants to stick golf balls into dead bodies, right?

lxvi) Battle – _Family, Angst_ – Angels can't fix everything. Braeden-centric. 300 words.

lxvii) Bow – _Humor, General_ – The ghost only attacks females, but Sam and Dean aren't about to risk another life to draw it out.

lxviii) Malice – _Family. Humor_ –Michael isn't as innocent as the Scripture implies. The lack of innocence, however, can fully be blamed upon Asgardian mead and the entirety of the angelic host, not Michael himself. Lucifer, of course, finds it to be perfectly valid source material.

lxix) Castle – _General, Humor_ – Lucifer woke up in a castle.

lxx) Scythe – _Family. Humor_ – Yes, the Winchesters are stupid enough to kill Death. Tag to xx) Dawn and xxii) Thrilling.

lxxi) Lost – _Friendship, General_ – Castiel is learning. Slowly.

lxxii) Ribbon – _Family, Humor_ – "What psycho ruins a pie festival?"

lxxiii) Bars – _Family, Humor_ – Sam makes a surprisingly good telephone reception pole.

lxxiv) Death – _Friendship, General_ – Kevin Tran, ghost extraordinaire, is not a stalker.

lxxv) Memory – _Family, General_ – Rowena and Crowley have a vastly different perceptions of their relationship _back then_.

lxxvi) Winter – _Humor, General_ – "I think Lucifer would intentionally order a froufrou drink in a biker bar in mascara and heels."- Mark Pellegrino

lxxvii) Asshole – _General_ – Lucifer has a few problems with Metatron's approach to 'being God'.

lxxviii) Childhood – _Family, General_ – Sam's not sure where Dean found out all these facts, or why he insists on making Sam's life a living hell.

lxxix) Sacrifice – _General_ – The Roadhouse residents, namely Bobby, are unamused by the Darkness's release.

lxxx) White – _Angst, General_ – Sam the IT guy doesn't wear white to his boss's wedding.

lxxxi) Graveyard – _Family, Hurt/Comfort_ – "You think she'd be proud of us?"

lxxxii) Umbrella – _Friendship, General_ – In the aftermath of The Fall, Crowley comes to stay in the bunker.

lxxxiii) Infected – _General, Angest_ – Demon blood doesn't trump the Darkness's infection. Tag to 11x1.

lxxxiv) Breathe – _General_ – Burning bodies is surprisingly therapeutic.

lxxxv) Forever – _General_ – It Sure Ain't Heaven Calling. Tag to 11x6.

lxxxvi) Apologize – _Horror, Friendship_ – "Hey Sam? It's Amelia." Tag to Season 10/11.

lxxxvii) Heartache – _Humor, General_ – Dean's still having separation issues with the Impala. Tag 11x4

lxxxviii) Invincible – _General, Angst_ – "Crowley wakes up and it's all a dream." ~Mark Sheppard, Denvercon

lxxxix) Illusion – _Humor, General_ – Lucifer's just an illusion. Tag to Season 6.

lc) Prayer – _Spiritual, General_ – Castiel prays. He doesn't always receive an answer. Tag to 10x23.

lci) Spring – _General, Friendship_ – Every writer has an editor that keeps them going. She was his first.

lciii) Jar of Dirt – _Humor, General_ – "You know you want to say it."

lciv) Magic – _Humor, Friendship_ – Kevin has some coherency issues when he's drunk. Tag to Season 11.

lcv) Needles – _Family, General_ – Dean's not one for tattoos.

lcvi) Golden – _General, Angst_ – Gabriel, cleaning up messes since time began.

lcvii) Dying – _General_ – Death's not a callboy.

lcviii) Red * lcvix) Ablaze * c) The End – It's what they've become; what they'll always be.


	2. i) Introduction

i) Introduction

* * *

The blood melts in Sam's mouth like cherry ice cream, lulling his taste buds into a state of security. It dribbles down his chin like hot cocoa and stains his plaid collar a heartthrob pink. This is his introduction to a world of half-truths and omitted lies and long nights spent with _her_ curled up by his side like a stray cat, craving warmth, bristling with smug satisfaction as it claims its mate, catches its prey. Yet he does not think; a spray of muted crimson clouds his every thought. He is safe. He is warm. He is fed. Satisfaction.


	3. ii) Poison

ii) Poison

* * *

Dean knows that The Mark is taking hold. His veins swell full of blood and his arm twitches, slowly at first, then faster, faster until it's all he can do to wish it still. It's like a vine creeping over his mind, entrenching its roots so deep that Dean isn't sure anyone will ever be able to uproot it.

The sensation of losing control was once chaotic. Now, as he's sipped the Mark's poison like a wine connoisseur to a glass of Merlot, Dean nods to the Mark and lets it go.

He doesn't tell Sam.

He'll never tell Sam.


	4. iii) Abandoned

iii) Abandoned

* * *

When his company fell and it felt as if his heart was torn right out of his chest and rotted in the murky Vietnam jungles, John Winchester learned two important lessons.

One: God didn't wait for anyone to say their last prayers.

Two: Alcohol healed all wounds.

After Mary screamed and on the ceiling like a sacrificial pig over an open fire and his breath was clutched right out of his lungs, hunting taught him more.

One: God had abandoned them more than two hundred years ago.

Two: Yes, alcohol healed all wounds, even those you didn't know you had.


	5. iv) Crisis

iv) Crisis

* * *

Garth ran like the Hounds of Hell were on his ass, which, considering that their deep huffs were searing the back of his neck, was an apt description of the current situation.

It was supposed to be a nice, calm hunt down in Colorado Springs. Sam theorized it as a vamp; Dean was of the vehement opinion that the Jefferson Starships had a second coming. When Snooki appeared and gave Garth a long, lustful look, the hunter knew it to be neither.

Next time the Winchesters had a crisis in need of cleanup, they could call someone else for once.


	6. v) Dream

v) Dream

* * *

"I'm sixteen," sitting behind the wheel as his dad mutters for him to let up on the gas and relax, he's not going to run anyone over, "and he's helping me get my learner's permit."

"I have that dream every couple of months."

No, he's had it so often that he knows how many lampposts are along 31st (ten), when the neighbors mow the lawn, and how Mrs. Johnson's dog enjoys bolting out into the road at half past noon.

The moment he wakes up, he sees the Impala's blood stained roof and reminds himself that it's all a dream.


	7. vi) Shooting Star

vi) Shooting Star

* * *

They sat on the hood of the Impala, each with a beer their hand. Sam lazily swept his hair behind his ear as Dean leaned against the windshield. A single star shot across the sky, its tail a ribbon of silken moonlight.

"What do you wish for?"

Dean knocked back a sip of beer. "Two hot ladies and a motel room."

"That it?"

No, it's wishing his mother brought him breakfast in bed when he was fifteen and sick, wishing his father told him that he was proud.

"Well, hookers and a Magic Finger, what else does a guy need?"


	8. vii) Mist

vii) Mist

* * *

The perfume bottle inconspicuously sits on the Bunker's worktable amid piles of books. Dean does a double take.

"God no."

"Is there something wrong?" Sam peeks in from the entry hall. Dean's cringing away from the bottle like it's a grenade primed to go off.

"I thought you tossed that!"

"You need something to mask the stench of alcohol and overbearing masculinity."

"It's concentrated grandma, that's what it is." With a glare, Dean sulks out of the room.

Shrugging, Sam picks up the bottle and spritzes it on his arm, a light mist of lavender and citrus. It's Dean's loss.


	9. viii) Hopeless

viii) Hopeless

* * *

A blob of black ink on a white card. Dean sits on the examination table, arms firmly crossed.

"Shapeshifter imitating Michael Jackson."

"The lovechild of a Bentley and an Impala."

"Every girlfriend Sam's ever had." Please clarify. "Deader than roadkill."

"Cas's sex life."

"Bleach, Leviathans, and a long night out on the job."

A contemplative look. "Shakira's panties."

"Demon dicks. Like not just dick demons, but their actual dicks. You know what I mean?"

"A homebrew Molotov blowing up some son of a bitch's coffin."

The doctor is tempted to smack his patient in the face—Dean Winchester is hopeless.


	10. ix) Obsession

ix) Obsession

* * *

Three hundred more. Two hundred more. One hundred more. Sam needs to be faster, Dean needs to be sexier, emotional insecurities need to be written in. Cas doesn't make sense there; remove him and put him three chapters later. The fans won't know a thing. Wait—Sam doesn't even appear until page five; the rest is exposition.

This is Chuck's obsession, his secret child bundled in a flash drive, hidden from the world's prying eyes. Every slapped together sentence, every make-do word is his own work, his own legacy, where he runs alongside angels and demons alike.

Control S, save.


	11. x) Dreamcatcher

x) Dreamcatcher

* * *

Lisa Branden's yoga class made dreamcatchers one chilly December evening. She wove hers out of threads from old plaid sweaters and leather shoelaces. She hung silver bullet fragments and green and brown shards of shattered beer bottles from the willow frame. The charms sparkled in the dying winter sunlight like wedding rings and amber, winked at her like emerald eyes, and clinked together like long-stemmed wine glasses.

When she hung it on her review mirror, she swore the cords creased in a smile.

She wasn't sure what errant thought the dreamcatcher caught, but she couldn't help but wish she knew.


	12. xi) Roses

xi) Roses

* * *

Charlie wore the smile that barely brushed her cheeks. "Dean?"

He glanced up from his burger, lettuce hanging out of his mouth. "Yeah?"

Shifting in her seat, Charlie avoided his eyes. "If I, say, die, can you make sure that no one brings roses to the funeral? Unless it's a hot girl. But no guys."

He sat there for a moment, two. His eyes hardened. "You're coming out of this alive."

"Just promise, okay?"

The burger bun in his mouth was soggy with saliva. "Okay."

Later, he gently removed Sam's roses from her pyre and laid them on the Impala.


	13. xii) Clouds

xii) Clouds

"Clooky's Cotton Candy is any child's Cloud Nine! Consume a tub today!"

Sam turned the television off faster than Dean could click a link to a free porn site.

"Clowns hiding underneath your bed?"

Sam whipped around. "Seriously?"

"Well—"

"I'm not dealing with this."

"Calm it. I'll drop it."

"Since when do you 'drop it'?" Sam's voice was dangerously flat.

Dean held up his hands. "Scout's honor."

Sam relaxed. "Thanks."

"But you gotta admit, you were a pretty screwed up kid. You were convinced Abbot and Costello wanted to molest you—"

"Sam? Sammy? Don't just walk off—"


	14. xiii) Revenge

xiii) Revenge

* * *

An empty bottle of Nair lay abandoned on the ground. The sink stunk of watermelon-raspberry shampoo. Warning growls boomed from Sam's throat as he stormed from the shower, bald as a monk.

Dean was paying.

Two hours later, an inconspicuous cherry pie sat on the table.

"Free game?" Dean asked as he swallowed a bite of burger.

Sam grunted.

"And you went to college. Love the new look."

Restraining himself from punching Dean's face in, Sam hunched over his laptop, and, not even fifteen minutes later, he was serenaded by Dean's tortured moans of laxative-induced pain.

 _Revenge was a bitch._


	15. xiv) Insanity

xiv) Insanity

* * *

Dean wants to scream when Castiel raises him from Hell.

"Are you okay?" Sam's question.

"Yes." Dean's answer.

Sometimes it plays out differently in Dean's head.

"Are you o-"

"No," Dean interrupts Sam. "I'm not okay. You're not okay. Nothing here is okay. Okay is slipping a fingernail under their skin and flaying it off, strip by strip, until they're a quivering pile of red jelly. Okay is saying yes, picking up the knife, hauling my tattered ass off the rack because you weren't there to make me stay."

Instead, he shuts his mouth and lets insanity devour every thought.


	16. xv) Disappear

xv) Disappear

* * *

There's a story about this man which Jenny thinks is horribly unspecific. "Dean" has no surname, no age, just a freckled face and green eyes that float through backwater towns and neglected highways, searching for something—someone—to hold onto before he disappears.

Jenny thinks that, although ambiguous, he's possibly the most romantic chap she's heard of.

"Where's the burger?" a customer hollers from his seat and, after a pause, adds, "And pie. Cherry."

Jenny snaps out of her daydream and turns, startled. "Sorry, sir. I'll be right with you."

Dean will just have to spirit her off another day.


	17. xvi) Shadow

xvi) Shadow

* * *

The dog glues itself to Dean like some sort of shadow. It's Sam's—he named it Buddy—but Dean is the one stuck with feeding it scraps from the dinner table and scooping its crap off the floor as Sam hooks up with some girl. Dog, because that _thing's_ no buddy of Dean's, is a musky golden retriever that sheds over Dean's sheets and slobbers on Dean's clothes.

Now it sits there, stupid smile on its face, with a thong hanging out of its mouth.

A pink, sequined thong.

A devilish grin spreads across his face. Oh, Sammy.

"Good boy."


	18. xvii) Darkness

xvii) Darkness

* * *

The Darkness is kinda hot, not that Dean's telling anyone that he thinks that.

Lips plump red, hair full, cheekbones high; she's the epitome of visual perfection. Hanging open a fraction of an inch, her mouth perpetually conveys breathlessness and passion. Her curves gently slope into her hips, perfect handles for his hands to grasp. And that walk, those crimson heels peeking out from the hem of her black dress as she saunters down the hallway. She's untouchable.

Dean downs another vodka shot. No sir, the Darkness is an evil bitch with a sweet tooth for souls, absolutely no appeal.


	19. xviii) Illuminate

xviii) Illuminate

* * *

A candle flame flickers and casts amber shadows across the table. It illuminates columns of thetas and integras, squares and multi-variable derivatives. Jessica slumps over a stack of books. She mutters something unintelligible as Sam drapes a blanket over her. "Go to sleep," he soothes.

"I'm gonna," she mumbles. "Two more."

He wraps his arms around her waist: a safety net. "Come'on."

Eyes half-lidded and math lost to the incoherency of sleepiness, she melts into him. "Mkay."

He blows out the candle. She trails him into bed.

Outside, the stars, knowing of the demons lurking nearby, mourn their naïve simplicity.


	20. xix) Dusk

xix) Dusk

* * *

He stands outside on the front porch. His wife and daughter sit at the dinner table, hidden by white, silk curtains and flickering candle light. He has been here before, he realizes.

Orange bleeds into black in the night sky. The moon chases the sun across the sky as a cat does to a mouse, playful, unintentionally harmful. This is his life, an endless cycle of safety in the sunlight's warmth before the cooling darkness and the stars cover his soul.

He tips his head back in subservience and stills.

Jimmy Novak dies at dusk as Castiel's eyes bleed blue.


	21. xx) Dawn

xx) Dawn

* * *

Death arrives at dawn, when the first tendrils of sunlight wrap around the burnt shadow of Gabriel's wings.

"I hate it when they run off," he mumbles. "The job takes twice as long."

"I popped out to buy these, actual French Fries. A vendor by the tower made 'em. Annie? Don't send any old reaper for her; she's sweet," Gabriel pipes from behind Death.

Sighing disinterestedly, Death holds out a hand. "I can try."

"Could you also do me a solid and let me live?"

The fries are a tad salty. "You have until I'm done."

Gabriel is already gone.


	22. xxi) Quest

xxi) Quest

* * *

"We have Excalibur. Does that mean that we get to quest for the Holy Grail?"

"Dean, it doesn't work that way. Arthur pulled Excalibur from the stone. The Holy Grail is at the end of Arthurian legend."

Dean gives him _the look,_ the bored, straight-faced equivalent of Sam's skeptical bitchface. No. Sam does not get to pull out the ultimate nerd facts when an infinite spring of youth and food is at stake.

"I-" Sam huffs as he bites his lip in frustration. "You know what? Can we just kill the dragons already?"

"Sounds good, Sammy-boy. The Grail can wait."


	23. xxii) Thrilling

xxii) Thrilling

* * *

"Well isn't this thrilling," Balthazar drawled. "We're both unfortunately alive."

Gabriel scoffed. "I'll drink to that."

"You're already drinking, dearest brother."

"Huh. I am."

Balthazar quirked an eyebrow. "So how'd you bribe the Death Eater?"

"I thought we were drinking, not talking politics."

"It's always fun and games with you."

"An archangel has his secrets."

"True," Balthazar conceded, "but secrets got us killed."

Loki and Lucifer; the Winchesters and Castiel.

"They did."

An uncomfortable silence settled over them.

"You know we're going to drink the bar dry."

"Yep."

"To living, then?"

Gabriel nodded, subdued, and raised his glass.

"To living."


	24. xxiii) Pillar

xxiii) Pillar

* * *

Jesse Turner was in Rome when Dean killed Death.

The shockwave of purple clouds was overwhelmingly powerful, launching him through a line of Corinthian pillars. Once the haze passed, he found himself, uninjured, beneath a granite slab.

He blinked.

Weird shit plus overwhelming power equaled Winchesters screwing up, which merited waves of hunters clamoring for Jesse's death, considering his general status as the Antichrist.

Jesse blinked again, briefly contemplated saving the world, and then groaned.

"Know what? The Winchesters will deal with it," Jesse grumbled as he pulled himself out of the rubble. "The world can burn without my help."


	25. xxiv) Autumn

xxiv) Autumn

* * *

Autumn came with the subtlety of Dean Winchester—absolutely none. The leaf piles were larger than Alaskan snowdrifts, a perpetually chilly wind tore through the trees, and Sam was stuck at a bus stop, shivering his ass off.

Baby ("You call her Baby, Sam. She doesn't like it when you just call her _the Impala_. It's degrading.") was in a mechanic's shop a few blocks down, and both Winchesters had grudgingly agreed to take the bus over wasting Castiel's strength and risking Dean's fragile digestive track.

Sam rubbed his mitten-clad hands together. Damn, Baby's heating system couldn't return fast enough.


	26. xxv) Teddy Bear

xxv) Teddy Bear

* * *

Crowley detests kids, even the homeless brats who make deals. This one's jeans were ripped at the knees and a teddy dangled by his side, red stiches barely keeping its arm attached.

"What do you want? A playpen?" Crowley carelessly waves his hand. "Anything your filthy little heart desires."

"My mom for my most valued possession," the kid pronounces, "whatever that means."

"It's a soul, not a teddy bear," Crowley shrugs. "Try again in ten years, kiddo."

He vanishes without a second thought but, when a lady took the kid in the next day, Crowley would refuse to claim involvement.


	27. xxvi) Snuff

xxvi) Snuff

* * *

Tessa stands on the end of the First Blade. It impales her clean through. Her eyes are half closed.

She's tired, so tired. Her arms hang limply by her sides; she will never again hold a soul in her hands, whisper that it's going to be alright, coax it to float to Heaven. Black bags are now the permanent tenants under her eyes. Her heart beats slower and slower until it drums a somber march.

Tessa is numb, too numb. She doesn't even feel Dean's arms around her as desperation snuffs out the remaining embers of life in her eyes.


	28. xxvii) Prism

xxvii) Prism

* * *

"Dick is on the rise as of late."

"I thought that I hated dick, but then I met Dick and realized that I'd never be gay."

"I heard that all potential Dicks need to act like sharks."

"You know what his mother woke up for every day? Dick."

"Oh, that's a good one."

"I need to go to the office to get some Dick papers today. I'm being promoted."

"Dude, even Dick's dick couldn't make sense of that one."

Dick Roman twirls a crystal prism under his fingers. He had two employees to kill, no?

He really _was_ a dick.


	29. xxviii) Rescue

xxviii) Rescue

* * *

The wind whips her hair, yanks at the fringe of her coat, and teases her boots. Her heart beats to a funeral march in her chest. There is no rescue for her; one step, and she's over the edge.

"Jumping is such a waste," someone observes from behind her, a short man with the slightest dusting of stubble, dressed in a tuxedo with a grey tie. He wavers in and out of the night, a mirage blurred by stress and tears.

"If you'd like, I could be bothered to fix you."

She turns around and takes the first step backwards.


	30. xxix) Broken

xxix) Broken

* * *

"Dean, I apologize," Castiel says. He stands in a heap of shattered relics and torn out pages, where broken candlesticks jut out of book spines and Sam's smoothie jars are reduced to piles of frosty glass shards. "I only intended to stretch my wings."

If Dean turns around, it will all go away. He blinks. Nope. Cas still stood there like a kicked puppy—wide, watering eyes and all.

"The intention is miles away from your execution. We need to work on that," Dean says. "It's fine, We'll clean it up."

He wasn't awake enough to deal with this shit.


	31. xxx) Walls

xxx) Walls

* * *

"Oh god! Oh, faster baby. Oh, oh!"

An animalistic grunt blended into buttery squeals of ecstasy and _something_ thudded against the floor. A frantic scrabbling ensured, manicured nails tapping on and nude bodies slamming against the hardwood floors. AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" hummed in the background, cymbals crashing with the satisfied smack of her lips and drums serenading her during her passionately loose-lipped climax.

Sam groaned and covered his head with a tattered down pillow. He really didn't need or desire to hear Dean doing the dirty tonight.

Dammit. The walls at motels were never thick enough.


	32. xxxi) Beautiful

xxxi) Beautiful

* * *

Frothy suds covered the bunker's cement floor. Dean's hands were blistered red from cleaning chemicals and the scent of lemons overwhelmed the garage.

When he was fifteen, Dean waxed his first car. The puck slid over the Impala's black hood, he buffed. Simplicity. He didn't have to think, the car didn't care how well it was waxed; life was easy.

Dean greeted Sam with grumbles and dinner with small mutters, and he washed the cars in the bunker more than he would wish to admit when he was waiting for his beautiful Baby to roll back through the iron doors.


	33. xxxii) Tonight

xxxii) Tonight

* * *

"Cas? You haven't watched Doctor Who yet, have you?"

"No. I just finished the introspection on human cannibalism and corruption."

"Hannibal."

"Yes, Hannibal. It was enthralling."

"You have strange tastes. Still, you want to watch Doctor Who?"

"Is that the series with the strange man in a phone booth?"

"Tardis, Cas, Tardis. You have so much to learn. Let's start with Ten. I never liked Nine, looked too much like a biker for me."

"I do not understand how numbers relate to television characters, unless you are speaking about prisoner codes."

"Sit down, watch, and prepare to be educated tonight."


	34. xxxiii) Empty

xxxiii) Empty

* * *

The beer box is empty; there are no green smoothies, no beer cans, and no stray heads from decapitations.

Sam's still stuck on the lack of smoothies.

"Dean, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Dean calls from the gas pump. "What did _you_ do?"

"If you tossed my smoothies again, not even Cas will be able to save you."

"I stuck them in the trunk."

"You stuck something made out of organic matter in the trunk."

"Look, we do it all the time with bodies. I thought your health fad could survive in there for a few hours."


	35. xxxiv) Festive

xxxiv) Festive

* * *

"You'd imagine you two would need someplace more festive to live in to keep your spirits up, considering how horribly south sealing Hell went."

"All we need is a translation."

"You refuse me a pencil, and then you refuse me the basic human right of Christmas lights. I expected more from you, Moose."

"You're a demon. Isn't celebrating Christmas like angels holding a satanic summoning?"

"They do it more often than you'd think. I dealt with the most self-righteous group in the eighties. Afterwards, management promoted me to a crossroads demon. I was always destined for something greater than the Angel-Demon division."


	36. xxxv) Melody

xxxv) Melody

* * *

"It's supposed to get heavy paranormal action."

He moves the record player's needle onto the disk. The smooth, haunting melody of "Daisy Bell" echoes out, all minor keys and silky singers. He's proposed to a girl once with this song, mouthing the lyrics as he slid along the hood of his car with a black box nestled in his hands. Now it's for late nights spent with his hands gripped around feminine curves and him pounding women into lavender sheets.

His neck cracks as an axe brutalizes the back of his head, and he wishes he chose a different song.


	37. xxxvi) Purple

xxxvi) Purple

* * *

The vamp has purple hair.

Reiterate, the vampire is not stereotypically Goth, but is rocking a fluorescently purple faux-hawk. Dean struggles through the shifting mass of sweaty bodies to the front of the bar, where she is downing a cherry-lemon shot.

He slides next to her. "Hey sweetheart. Going home with someone tonight?"

"I might be," she drawls.

"I'd love to hop on that bandwagon, if you catch my drift."

"Honey, I do."

Later, Dean shrugs as his machete swipes through her neck and Sam takes the head off of a skinny man. "Drift implies that there's an orgy, bitch."


	38. xxxvii) Panic Switch

xxxvii) Panic Switch

* * *

Dean is about to unzip and piss when he sees the blinking red button. He closes his eyes and walks out of the bathroom. "You have a panic switch inside the toilet bowl."

Ron pushes his pointer fingers together until they turn bone white. "You never know when the Mandroids will attack. I had it installed after the Boston Marathon."

"There were actual bombers during the Boston Marathon. There weren't any Mandroids."

"That's what they want you to think."

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose in defeat. "But the toilet?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."


	39. xxxviii) Sanctuary

xxxviii) Sanctuary

* * *

 _I think I've got a feeling I've lost inside_

 _I think I'm gonna take me away and hide_

Records hang on the wall, Hendrix's covers line the ceiling, there's a good sound system, and the familiar off-kilter lyrics of Oasis's "Roll With it" echoes around the room. It's a rock fanatic's sanctuary. A weapon rack sits above his bed. Photos of a blonde woman, a Sasquatch in plaid, a grumpy old man in a baseball cap, a man covered with Vietnam medals, and a '67 Chevy Impala.

He flops back on his bed and lets the music carry him away.


	40. xxxix) Spell

xxxix) Spell

* * *

"Eddie Tremonti, FBI. I have some questions about the suicides."

The secretary takes a delayed glance at her computer screen. "Could you spell that for me?"

Dean freezes like a kid caught with a hand deep in the cookie jar. "Excuse me?"

"I need your name for the records. E-d-d-y Ed, or E-d-d-i-e Ed? I've seen your last name around; I just can't spell at the moment. One coffee too little, you know?"

The tension drains out of his shoulders. "Uh, yeah. Got to arrive at those pots early before doughnut nabers drain 'em. Eddie, E-d-d-i-e, Tremonti, T-r-e-m-o-n-t-i."

Crisis adverted.


	41. xl) Rejection

xl) Rejection

* * *

" _What is this?_ "

"You said it was called fanfiction."

"You- Dude, your dick is going into my ass in this one."

"I really didn't need to know that."

"I don't use cherry lube. Cherries are for pie, not sex."

"Dean, just shut up."

"Or beads. No one uses beads anymore."

"For the love of god, do you understand how to keep things to yourself?"

"I thought you loved it when I talked about my feelings. Don't reject the outpour."

"Not-"

"Deal with it, Sammy."

"You know what? Cas can deal with this. I'm out."

"So you don't want the link?"


	42. xli) Sword

xli) Sword

* * *

Swords and axes clash during the Mill's Annual Family Night.

"You've been practicing." Jody arcs her back as Alex takes a swing.

"It's all from you, Jody."

Donna barrels between them. "Don't I get some love?"

Claire Novak sits wide-eyed on the couch. When Dean suggested the Mills as a good rest house if needed, well, she wasn't expecting _this_.

But the Winchesters were kings of spontaneity and connections. It shouldn't have been surprising that they knew a functional family with a vamp rehab kid, the Sioux Falls sheriff, and a bubbly sheriff by day, weight loss fanatic by night.


	43. xlii) Love

xlii) Love

* * *

The sex is great. He takes it slow, steady, and slides into her like a needle. His body wraps around her like a glove and warms her like a fireplace on a cold winter's eve. They lay in bed afterwards, cupped in each other.

She takes the sadistic satisfaction of lulling him into complacence, her wrist bleeding into his mouth as her mouth caresses him. He's addicted to her personality, logic, body, blood. Not even Dean's barbed words can snap him from his drugged daze. Sam's hers, only hers.

In more than one way, Ruby loves screwing over Sam Winchester.


	44. xliii) Yellow

xliii) Yellow

* * *

"Dean, calm down."

"I'm going to rip their fucking throats out and serve their fingers to Crowley on a platter."

The Impala is covered in yellow spray-paint dicks. Giant yellow spray-paint dicks.

"Look, we just need to call the police. The motel has cameras all around the lot. There's bound to be footage."

"They don't deserve jail time. No one touches Baby and survives."

"And what are you going to do? Kill them?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"We're supposed to be flying under the radar, remember? The FBI's already on us."

"Screw the FBI. We're hunting vandals."


	45. xliv) Boogeyman

xliv) Boogeyman

* * *

The front door closes behind them. "We're dealing with the boogeyman."

"Dean-"

"The kid said it was shadowy… thing, which is awfully descriptive description, by the way. What shadowy creep lives under the bed? The boogeyman."

"It's not a boogeyman."

" _The_ boogeyman."

"Okay, _the_ boogeyman. The mom had bites all over her neck, and her body was drained clear out of blood. It's likely a vamp gone mythical monster."

"But there was the slime."

"Brain mucus. That was from the dad's head being bashed in."

"And the uneaten pie."

"What?"

"No vamp leaves pie alone. _Nobody_ leaves the pie alone."


	46. xlv) Downstream

xlv) Downstream

* * *

Metatron's hovel is just downstream of the TV station.

Castiel cringes as he walks in, the stench of molded onions assaulting his nose with vehement ferocity. Pizza boxes tower behind the front door, obscuring Castiel's entry until he kicks them over and they tumble to the ground.

The mattress sits in the middle of the living room, and the misshapen bulge beneath the pillow screams "Hiding Place".

Something the size of a grape seed scurries over the makeshift bed.

Bedbugs.

"For the tablet," Castiel hisses in distaste. He approaches the bed with trepidation as another bug sprints across the covers.


	47. xlvi) Fire Ball

xlvi) Fire Ball

* * *

Her eyes glassy and her hair slicked back, Jessica stares down at Sam from the ceiling. Her neck is cocked to the side, a gash trailing along her jawbone, and her lips are drawn back in a surprised gasp. Her chest cavity is carved open and her nightgown spills out of it like stuffing from a Thanksgiving turkey. Blood drips down, splashes down onto his face, and floods his mouth with copper.

He's about to scream as a fireball consumes her.

He wakes up. She drapes an arm over his side.

"Go back to sleep," she murmurs, but he can't.


	48. xlvii) Challenge

xlvii) Challenge

* * *

Charlie meets the stranger's eyes. The two awkwardly shuffle around; there's no 'love at first sight'.

(Part of that stems from Charlie desperately trying— _desperately,_ mind you—to avert her gaze from the other woman's large rack, but the glossy innocence of her brown eyes is as equally sexual as her bust.)

(and the light curves of her jawbone)

(and the soft round of her chin)

(it's a challenge, okay?)

"My—I'm Charlie," Charlie stutters. "Yours is?"

"Haniel, Angel of the Lord," the woman replies. "The Winchesters call me Hannah."

(And damn, it's unfair when God creates angels for perfection.)


	49. xlvii) Sneeze

xlviii) Sneeze

* * *

"You're not The World's Smallest Woman." The tickling starts at the back of Dean's nose, itching for him to release the snot Kraken. "Get the fuck out of my lap."

"Nah."

Sam has thrust his head right under Dean's chin and the hair isn't helping matters. The back of his throat burns. "I'm going to sneeze all over your back if you don't move."

"You go right ahead."

The dam breaks and Dean sneezes. His chin rams into Sam's head, and Sam falls off his lap, more startled than injured, but Dean's jaw hurts like a son of a bitch.


	50. xlix) Illogical

xlix) Illogical

* * *

The four year old dressed in an Elsa costume looks up at Crowley with wide, watery eyes. If Crowley had emotions, which he didn't, and had some shred of human decency, which was also void from his life, he might have left right then and there. Instead, he prompts her. "Come again, darling?"

"I'm going to be a princess when I grow up, and you're my fairy godmother."

"Fairy godmothers don't dress in tuxedos, now do they?"

Her brow furrows as she concentrates and reasons in the illogical way that only four year olds do before she brightens. "You do."


	51. l) Intermission

l) Intermission

* * *

Backstage, Marie can barely contain herself. Act one commandeered a rousing round of applause; they're going to love the second. Really, who can resist aliens?

"Excuse me," she says, nearly knocking over a pile of cardboard UFOs. "Sorry. Could we suspend those?" A half-heated acceptance from the crew. "Good. Maeve? Maeve, are Sam and Dean-"

"Seated? Yes. Has the publisher ticket been claimed? No."

Marie glares at the stagehands as they spill purple goop near the Impala mock-up. "It's only intermission," she admits, albeit disappointed. The timer goes off and she brightens. "Anyways, five minutes to curtains up! Chop-chop, folks!"


	52. li) Overrated

li) Overrated

* * *

"Hunting is so overrated." She takes an open-mouthed chew of gum and leans back in the desk chair, flicking through her phone. "We do things electronically now."

Dean is standing in the doorframe, mouth inching downwards. "Excuse me?"

"Hacky slash time with the creep crew? It doesn't happen anymore. Look, you call up the guy, plan out a League session, and hope his main doesn't cream yours in competition. Guy commits suicide if you win, you return the favor if you aren't so lucky. It's easy and saves gas money."

Dean opens his mouth to find he has no response.


	53. lii) Contagious

lii) Contagious

* * *

"Here." Sam sets a pencil on the table. "As you requested."

"Why thank you!" Crowley exclaims as he leans forward in his seat. "Are you going to bring in a beer now? Maybe set up a Christmas tree in the corner? We'll drink to another wonderful year together."

Sam's withering glare is so intense where Crowley almost shrinks back into his seat. _Almost_.

Gargantuous turns on his heel and is about to storm out but Crowley raises a chained hand. "Look, I'm sorry. Not really, but you know what I bloody mean."

"Thank you?" Confusion.

Dammit. Humanity really was contagious.


	54. liii) Magnificent

liii) Magnificent

* * *

Dean walks into the bar and Crowley's hunched over a bundle of blanket and squirming baby. Dean near smacks himself to ensure that he's not dreaming and realizes that yes, that is Crowley, and yes, Crowley is cooing.

"Who's a little devil?"

"Crowley. What are you doing?"

The King of Hell brushes a finger over the infant's nose. "She's magnificent, isn't she?"

"She's not a sacrifice for some ritual, is she?"

Crowley glares at Dean and growls. "Don't ruin the moment. Scamper off, Squirrel."

Dean blinks, settles next to Crowley, shuts his eyes, and offers a finger to the kid.


	55. liv) Summer

liv) Summer

* * *

Summer rushes the bunker like a quarterback to the other team's linebacker in the last five yards. The half-century old air conditioning blows equal amounts of hot and cold air, and the humidity is near suffocating.

With summer comes water guns, and with water guns come Dean's general intolerableness.

A jet of water nails Sam on the side of the head. Hair dripping, Sam turns to Dean and Bitchface _You little shit_ appears as Sam bites his lower lip in frustration.

"Guess what Sam? I'm a sniper!"

Dean is unable to dodge the leather-bound book Sam launches at his head.


	56. lv) Button

lv) Button

* * *

Heaven isn't home.

Hostile angelic assassins targeting the Winchesters and Co. ensure that Castiel knows his place. He wasn't an angel—he didn't have the same dignity, the same holiness and wholeness. He is broken shards of grace forcefully jammed down the throat of a dead vessel.

Home isn't Heaven, so Dean places a mirror in an empty room of the bunker and hooks up a TV and home becomes curling up on a pillow, aimlessly pressing buttons on a worn remote, binging on Netflix, and downing a case of Redbull as Castiel waits for the Winchesters to come home.


	57. lvi) Fragments

lvi) Fragments

* * *

The wolf leaps and bowls Dean over, his rib cracking when he hits the ground. He attempts to bury his knife into the ground to halt his fall, but it shatters into needlelike fragments that pierce his hands.

He can't remember the last time everything hurt.

A gunshot. The wolf thuds to the ground.

"Dean? You good?"

"Just need Advil," Dean grinds out.

Later, puce bruises litter Dean's hips and knees, and it's all he can do to fish through the med kit to grab a pill.

He downs it dry and forces a smile, but Advil can't fix everything.


	58. lvii) Merriment

lvii) Merriment

* * *

When Dean's asleep, the impermanent crease of his brow, his worn laugh lines, and his freckled scars bleed into an eased, natural blankness.

So when moonlight lurks in the library and the silence of the bunker fills the air like molasses, Castiel slips into Dean's room and perches on his desk chair to watch the—his—righteous man.

A touch of childish merriment sneaks into Dean's pressed lips before they slip back into neutrality; a nightmare dances on his brows before Castiel waves it away, and he lets the world outside, insignificant to Dean's serene impassivity, fade from his thoughts.


	59. lviii) Rising

lviii) Rising

* * *

 _It was the heat of the moment…_

Stray rays of sunlight shower Sam as he rises out of bed, his movements lethargic. He doesn't want to wake up, but he knows that if he doesn't Dean' still slipping in the shower and blood is slicking the floor and god, _god_ , Sam's seen the same scene too many times.

Sam stares out the window. Dean walks to the Impala and fiddles with the key. Dean stabs himself in the throat.

Dean's glassy eyes, too much red, and a mouth open in one last Sam.

 _It was the heat of the moment…_


	60. lix) Blue

lix) Blue

* * *

Crowley knows it's over.

Lucifer is tossing a silvery-blue angel blade from hand to hand like it's a stick of glue, with absolutely no caution for where the blade meets his skin. "I heard that you'd taken up lower management."

"It was a temporary arrangement."

"And I assume you were warming the seat for my lovely ass?"

"Who else?"

"You flatter me. Sucks that I hate suck-ups." And with that, Lucifer bitchslaps Crowley across the face.

"What was that for?"

"An initiation ritual into the upper standing of society. Welcome to the Big Boys Ring. You asked for an invitation?"


	61. lx) Hesitation

lx) Hesitation

* * *

Sammy pukes over the backseat of the Impala and it stinks of vomit and yeast for the next week. He fills his diapers when there is four hours until a rest stop and John is wheeling away from the law enforcement. Dean reeks of baby powder.

"You're a jerk," Dean mutters as Sammy cries in his arms, "the littlest jerk." Dean's said it to Sammy so many times that he swears the kid thinks his _name_ is Jerk.

"Erk," Sammy burbles back.

"Son of a bitch." Dean hesitantly breaks Dad's ever-hypocritical swear law. "Shit. Please don't repeat that."

"Bit—"


	62. lxi) Courage

lxi) Courage

* * *

What is courage?

Courage is Sam sitting in the passenger seat as Dean slams the gas pedal in the Impala. It's the firm grip on an ancient pendant with one hand as the other clutches the wheel, one-liter bottles of human blood sloshing in the trunk, their jaws hard set and their hearts pounding to the hum of the engine. It's Twisted Sisters as a battle anthem and Kansas as a funeral hymn. It's a case of unopened beers in the backseat and two loaded shotguns in the front.

Courage is going into something halfcocked even when death is certain.


	63. lxii) Unknown

lxii) Unknown

* * *

Dean Winchester was raised on barked orders and half a box of Cheerios. He knows how to take apart a gun in fifteen seconds and reconstruct it in five, how many bullets are in a Winchester pistol's clip, and how to fake an ID. He's a car mechanic, card mechanic, hustling at any given opportunity.

Dean was not raised to be defiant or truthful.

Although "I love you" still simmers behind his lips and he knows he's going to slip up someday, someway, he clutches Lisa's hand and skips the pen across the marriage certificate, a step into the unknown.


	64. lxiii) Potion

lxiii) Potion

* * *

"What's a Binsky? Some sort of potion?"

"Dean, put it down. We need to figure out how to-"

"Sammy, there's free alcohol, you have a demon to fuck again, I apparently have a loving family at home. What's the rush?"

The demon comment merits Dean a flat bitchface and a middle finger. "The rush? Castiel's battling Raphael. Dean, he needs our help _now_."

"He seemed to be doing fine before he poofed us out. Look, the tablet's going to take time to arrive anyways. Shot?"

"For reference, I didn't agree to this."

"Shot it is. You want the kiddie cup?"


	65. lxiv) Faerie

lxiv) Faerie

* * *

"Have you ever thought about adding to Dad's journal?"

"Huh?"

"You know, fish the old thing out of storage and write in it."

"Never considered it. It was always Dad and me, never Dad and me, you know?"

"No, I really don't." Pause.

"When it was supposed to be _Dad and me,_ driving a car, hunting together, it was always _me_ and a smattering of Dad."

"Maybe you should try. Write about faeries or some shit."

"Maybe." His response is quiet.

(Sam walks out of the bunker library with a pen and the hunting journal clutched tight to his chest.)


	66. lxv) Pumpkin

lxv) Pumpkin

* * *

The vic's head was sliced clean off, exposing the Styrofoam-like texture of his spinal column. His shoulder blades jutted up, creating a hollow the size of a basketball between his shoulders and his collarbone.

"There was a pumpkin attached to this?"

"Apparently," Sam said. At Dean's thoughtful look, he narrowed his eyes. Contemplative Dean executed half-assed plans.

Dean's gaze darted from the vic to the doctor's golf balls. "Could we jam-"

"No."

"But it'd be-"

"No."

"Spoilsport," Dean grumbled.

No golf balls were stuck into the deceased, and they escaped the morgue without a lecture from the staff on conduct.


	67. lxvi) Battle

lxvi) Battle

* * *

Triple count because I needed to write.

* * *

Black graduation caps soar over Ben Braeden's head; the ceiling dissolves into a rainbow of confetti and streamers. His mother hobbles through viscous flocks of families to congratulate her son, a bittersweet smile stretched taut across her face.

(He doesn't miss how she aims an inch higher when she tries to meet his eyes, or how she fixates on his sea green tie, or how his name always catches when she says it, as if she's trying to call out to someone entirely different. (He smiles when she meets his eyes and calls his name. (The smile is as taut as his mother's, but it's _normal_. It's _okay_.)))

Partway to Ben, she winces in pain. She continues. Her legs buckle.

Somehow, he catches her before she tumbles down.

(It was a car accident, the doctors reassure the Braedens, this is _normal_. The pain will come and leave. It's _okay_. (But for years there was nothing, and it isn't _normal_ for there to be now. (His mom rises with a grimace on her lips and some nights they're both up until one since she _just cannot sleep_ , and it isn't _okay_.)))

His mother's thin lips part in apology, but Ben hugs her before she can stammer one out, wrapping all six feet of him around the too little of her. He holds her close until he hears the familiar thump of her heart, a steady anthem in a guerrilla war of congratulations. He catches the warm words of a father ("I'm proud.") and a son's loving response ("Thanks, dad."), and Ben tugs her closer.

 _This is normal; this is okay_ , Ben tries to reassures himself, but as his mother's eyes battle back to his tie and the praise of a father violates the thud of her heart the words feel hollow.


	68. lxvii) Bow

lxvii) Bow

* * *

"You look cute as a girl," Sam says as Dean edges out of the bathroom. Dean's done up in a pink tutu and a white wife beater that barely restrains his pecs from kissing the humid summer air.

"Next time, you're the drag queen," Dean mumbles. "You've always done better in pink."

"As far as I recall, you were the one who wanted to dress up. Something about getting some ghostly lesbian love?"

Glaring at Sam and giving the one-finger salute, Dean turns around. His tutu bounces up and down like a yo-yo. "Shut up and tie the damn bow."


	69. lxviii) Malice

lxviii) Malice

* * *

"Got any threes?"

"Go fish."

"You're kidding me."

"I'm the Devil. I don't screw around, sweetheart. You on the other hand, with your angel buddies-"

"It was their first orgy. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Tell them to come with me?"

"Excuse me, but you were fallen," Michael said, words void of malice.

"You could have invited me. No one would have noticed." Lucifer ruffles the cards in his hands. "Any fours?"

Michael hands over a set of three, and Lucifer pockets them with a flourish and a smirk. "Oh, they would have noticed you."

"Fair. Who wouldn't?"


	70. lxix) Castle

lxix) Castle

* * *

Lucifer woke up in a castle.

It would've been understandable if said castle was dark and dank, with demonic sigils scratched into the floor and handcuffs hanging off the wall.

This castle was not.

There were stained glass pictures of Jesus in white, candles flicking bright beneath The Savior's feet. Pews covered the floor, and nuns filled every row, a sea of black hoods and red communion cups.

The congregation hushed and turned to him. A particularly vocal nun screamed. Another in the back held up her rosary. One near Lucifer slid her hand into her robe.

"You're _kidding_ me."


	71. lxx) Scythe

lxx) Scythe

* * *

Gabriel's eyebrows quiver as he plucks Death's abandoned scythe from the ground. "They didn't."

"Unfortunately, those two bozos did." Balthazar takes a sip from his drink. "Oh! Wonderful! It's fizzy. Death has impeccable taste, even in death. Want some?"

"You know what? They can clean up their own messes. I don't need this stress."

"You're still in fragile recovery, and that's why you need to drink me out of house and home. I've heard it all before."

"I'm going to kill them."

"Gabby, I'm going to drink this if you don't take a shot."

" _Winchesters_."

"I know, bro. I know."


	72. lxxi) Lost

lxxi) Lost

* * *

"Dean, I am lost."

"Can't you just zap yourself to us?"

"You gave me an incorrect address."

"It's just the Bunker."

"Oh." Someone taps Dean's shoulder. "I am here."

"You can get off the phone now."

"I apologize." Cas just stands there, phone to his ear.

"Bring it down and tap the red button on the screen."

"The screen is not letting me tap the button. It requires my passcode."

"Six-Six-"

"I know what it is, Dean. And then I tap the red button?"

Dean turns back around and hunches back over his burger. "Yep."

They grow up so fast.


	73. lxxii) Ribbon

lxxii) Ribbon

* * *

There's rows upon rows of cooked confectionaries stacked up like bleachers at a soccer game. The warm smell of coffee and caramel wraps around Dean at every turn. He's pretty sure this is Heaven. Screw angels, give the finger to succubae, because this, _this_ , is the best thing he's ever seen.

A sign on a table at the fairground entrance proudly declares unlimited pie samples.

" _God._ Seriously, Sammy, what psycho ruins a pie festival?"

Sam catches Dean's eyes. "We're looking for leads, Dean."

"But—"

"Leads."

Dean huffs and snatches a slice from a blue-ribbon pie. "Lead the way, Sammy-boy."


	74. lxxiii) Bars

lxxiii) Bars

* * *

They're in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, and the Impala lies smoking on the road's shoulder, her windows misted with blood. A vamp body sprawls in the middle of the highway, its head blown clean off.

"Come on baby." Dean holds his phone up to the sky. "One bar, that's all we need."

"Talking to it doesn't help, Dean," Sam scoffs from the Impala's hood. "You going to help me with the body or not?"

"I'm our resident telephone pole. I can't move."

"I'm taller."

"Two inches won't make a difference."

Five minutes later, Sam has the phone _and_ service.


	75. lxxiv) Death

lxxiv) Death

* * *

Kevin Tran, ghost extraordinaire, is not a stalker. He does not stand guard at the entrance of the bunker, waiting for Sam and Dean to roll into the garage in the Impala, nor does he haunt the security room and make sure all the alarms are primed in case of emergency. He does not sharpen the knives when Sam's out on a beer run, clean the bedrooms when Dean's showering, or pay the electricity bills as Castiel binges Orange is the New Black.

Kevin has already assisted the Winchesters, and he most definitely refrains from helping them in his death.


	76. lxxv) Memory

lxxv) Memory

* * *

"Oh Fergus," Rowena croons as Crowley stands stiller than a statue, angel blade clutched in his hand. "Don't you remember? They've taken you from me, lad."

There's the smallest hope that he remembers gentle lullabies, bowls of carrot soup, and a raggedy teddy held together by thick black threads salvaged from voodoo dolls.

"I have _a_ memory," he hisses. "You walking out that bloody door with a smile and a diamond. There's no lost love."

Rowena's grin plummets off her face and she's alone on an island with no way off. The blade skirts her chest.

She closes her eyes.


	77. lxxvi) Winter

lxxvi) Winter

* * *

The door hangs open behind her as she saunters into the bar in red heels, ushering in winter's chill and snow. Her curled mane drifts in a cloud around her face, and her lips are like plump cherries.

"Lemon ice daiquiri," she orders.

The bartender takes a drag and puffs it into her face. "Darling, we don't serve those. That would be the lady's club."

Laughter resounds as bikers clap each other's backs with meaty, tattooed hands.

The lady's pupils flicker red. " _Darling_ ," she hisses. "My drink?"

They draw back like she's pulled out a knife.

"Yes ma'am."

Lucifer grins.


	78. lxxvii) Asshole

lxxvii) Asshole

* * *

You don't just tell the human race that you're God, go all belligerent on demons, hail yourself as a healer, then hole yourself in heaven and peace the fuck out. It doesn't generate any devotion, just a shit load of pissy humans and an influx of religious arsonists.

Not that burning down churches was bad. Lucifer supported that life decision, if simply for the fact that it destroyed stained glass windows.

Either ways, Metatron is a royal asshole, and Lucifer is gunning to jam those ten-foot poles so far up the scribe's ass that they poke out of his mouth.


	79. lxxviii) Childhood

lxxviii) Childhood

* * *

"Did you know that bananas are radioactive?"

"That golden retriever from Air Bud is dead. All those puppies? No father."

"They sold this Barbie doll named Madge. You could pop her belly off and see a fetus inside! Pregnant Barbies, promoting the good stuff. All they needed was a Ken doll with a condom and a sizable dick."

"None of the Rugrat kids are real, aside from that snotty brat with the yellow hair."

Sam slid his hand down his face. "Dean, find something else to do."

"I'm not going to because you know what? Boom. Right in the childhood."


	80. lxxix) Sacrifice

lxxix) Sacrifice

* * *

Heaven needs a better bar, Bobby thinks as he walks into the Roadhouse. You'd think between the overworked, uptight, and generally bitchy angels, someone would magic up a better clubhouse.

"What's the long face for?" Pamela's downing a shot of vodka as he walks in. Helps strengthen her communications with the living, his ass. "Lighten up! We're dead!"

"Those two ijits freed an ancient force and doomed the world again," Bobby grumbles as he takes a seat.

"Hey, maybe it'll be entertaining. I'd sacrifice my safety for a day's jailbreak to down low. Good, Russian alcohol? Ash doesn't have any."


	81. lxxx) White

lxxx) White

* * *

Sam the IT guy doesn't wear white to his boss's wedding.

He's sitting in the front row in a jet black suit, a dark stain in a field of snowy tuxedos. White has never felt right. It's too clean, too pure, like someone's gone and bleached the features off his face and abandoned him in the cold. It strips away all aspects of his individuality. He can see the potent annoyance in every eerily white tuxedo, broadcasted out for the world to see.

Once, someone told him that Hell was cold, not hot.

Sam wonders if Hell is white too.


	82. lxxxi) Graveyard

lxxxi) Graveyard

* * *

"You think she'd be proud of us?"

The graveyard gate reaches into the sky, a barrier between them and the rest of the world. Rain comes down from the sky in torrents, drenching their thin flannel shirts. Her marble gravestone sticks up from the ground like a beacon, the final summoning call for moonlight.

They are close to each other, shoulders firmly pressed together, but they don't hug. The shorter one reaches up and reassuringly ruffles the taller's hair.

"I think she would."

Mary Winchester died on November 2, 1983.

Her boys could never forget to come to her grave.


	83. lxxxii) Umbrella

lxxxii) Umbrella

* * *

In the aftermath of The Fall, capitals and all, Crowley comes to stay in the bunker.

For some reason, the hospitality highlights include gourmet grilled cheese, crayons, and long walks down gravel roads.

"I don't need a bloody umbrella."

"It's raining grace. Pretty sure that burns as bad as Holy Water."

"Don't remind me. Anyways, your height is enough to serve as protection, you being the Sasquatch that you are."

"Do you want to go outside or not?"

Crowley snatches the umbrella from Sam's hands with a grudging glare. "Just don't expect me to give you a smooch underneath it."


	84. lxxxiii) Infected

lxxxii) Umbrella

* * *

The Darkness creeps across Sam's neck in raised veins of obsidian and red. In an hour, maybe two if he's lucky, he'll be frothing on the floor, single minded. Eat. Sleep. Live. It already whispers to him in the back of his mind, coaxing him to step closer and closer to the windows to outside, unlatch the hatch, become part of the pack.

He got lucky with the Croatian virus all those years ago. A harsh, raspy laugh scrapes its way out of his throat. Demon blood doesn't fend off all infections, despite its boasted superiority to all other lifeforms.


	85. lxxxiv) Breathe

lxxxiv) Breathe

* * *

The body burns beneath him, the white cloth that wraps it fracturing in flames and splitting away to present a plain of crackling charcoal and burnt bones. The fire leaps up and kisses the soles of his boots, charring the leather tips. It's warm, a familiar hug in the chill of the winter night.

Dean flicks back the engraved cap of his lighter and stares into the roaring pit beneath him. It celebrates him, its creator, and heralds the victory over another ghoul, ghost, or giant.

He drinks in a deep breath, the air searing his lungs, and smiles.

Smoke.


	86. lxxxv) Forever

lxxxv) Forever

* * *

The image of two grimy hands grasping through the bars forever sears itself in Sam's mind. They're littered with cuts, flimsy with exhaustion, and each finger drips sweat. Grappling with the bars, they try and free the prisoner inside.

The table wavers beneath Sam's hands (his hands, with manicured fingernails and stitched up wounds). He knows what's real. He knows that he's standing in the bunker and Dean and Cas are staring at each other in suspicion, but he also knows that the hands aren't just a vision.

They beckon for Sam to come closer.

He bows his head.

"Lucifer."

Smoke.


	87. lxxxvi) Apologize

lxxxvi) Apologize

Tag to Season 11.

* * *

"Hey Sam? It's Amelia. Pick up the phone, asshole."

"I need help, but you aren't picking up the fucking phone and I can't—"

"I hope you aren't dead."

"Samuel Winchester, I need you. Please. I apologize, okay?"

"He left me, Sam. I'm alone, and this fog is freaky as fuck."

"Do you even care? Fuck you, you stupid—"

"Sorry for hanging up. Just… please pick up. There's weird shit happening and—fuck—Sam, I'm scared. I'm scared."

"I can't breathe."

"I— god—"

[Call Disconnected.]

.

.

[This number is unreachable. Please try dialing again.]

.

.

[Please leave a message.]

"Amelia?"


	88. lxxxvii) Heartache

lxxxvii) Heartache

* * *

The tension is thicker than Crowley's accent, and if Dean whines about the Impala one more time, Sam is going to kill someone. Preferably Dean.

"She's ruined."

"She's been through worse."

" _She's ruined_."

"Thanks for stating that again. However, I'm not the mechanic mastermind here. You barely let me touch her."

" _She's at a shop._ They do ugly things there. _"_

"We have bigger things to worry about than the car. Metatron, The Darkness, Rowena, Crowley. Take your pick."

" _But my car._ My heart aches, Sam, it _burns._ "

"That's wonderful. However, it doesn't prevent you from hauling ass and cleaning."

" _Baby._ "


	89. lxxxviii) Invincible

lxxxviii) Invincible

* * *

The morning is so silent that Crowley could hear a pin drop in the Winchester's hidey-hole hundreds of miles away, but then he turns to his mirror and sees hollowed cheekbones and bags running down his cheeks, and he remembers and suddenly it's all too loud.

Three years spent in a bed, two legs that dangle off the edge of a wheelchair, and a hand that _isn't there._

He was never invincible. He never ruled a different world. He was never a cocky, snarky arse that could get away with anything.

Crowley wakes up, and it is all a dream.


	90. lxxxix) Illusion

lxxxix) Illusion

* * *

He's an illusion.

Lucifer isn't spread out on the bed, aimlessly throwing firecrackers into the air and counting on his fingers how long it takes each to explode. "Sammy, you want to have gay sex? It'd be great."

"Come' on kiddo. You'd just have to take that little mouth and wrap it around _me_."

"You've wanted to let my ship in your dock for the longest time."

"I heard you got my tramp stamp. Right on the top of those smuckerlicious pecs, baby. Can I see? Can't promise I won't touch."

Sam flips the pillow over his head and groans.


	91. lc) Prayer

lc) Prayer

* * *

When Castiel raises Dean Winchester from Hell, he prays for strength. When he learns of Michael's plans, he prays for guidance. Sam has no soul, and Castiel prays for knowledge. Castiel reaches for his father and falls instead. Humanity claims him and he prays for forgiveness. The angels go to war amongst themselves and Castiel prays for safety.

The Darkness is unleashed and Castiel does not say a single word. He is chained to a chair in the bunker as insanity consumes him, and he knows, knows that any prayer that slips out from between his lips will remain unanswered.


	92. lci) Spring

lci) Spring

* * *

Chuck meets her in the spring. She's sitting on a park bench, sticking her tongue out, as if she's trying to taste the new blooms.

"Are you-" Chuck glances down at the post-it in his hand. Sweat spots its yellowed edges. "Becky Rosen?"

"You must be Chuck," Becky says, bouncing up from the bench. "Nice to meet 'cha. You're looking for a local editor, right?"

"Yeah. No one's accepted. The manuscript's not bad, it's just-"

"It hasn't taken off yet. I could help."

A strange blonde angel follows Chuck home that spring, and, after that, she never leaves his side.


	93. lcii) Paranoid

lcii) Paranoid

* * *

"What? I had a weekend off," Bobby says defensively, shoulders shrugged back.

Because it takes a weekend to haul a five-ton steel canister to your house, put it in the ground, coat the entire thing with salt, make a custom grid with an attached fan to go over the ceiling, prepare a multitude of Devil's Traps and set them around the premise of the house, weld together a cast iron door.

Let it be said that Bobby was a paranoid bastard, but sometimes it paid off.

"You're awesome."

The poster of the swimsuit model is just icing on the cake.


	94. lciii) Jar of Dirt

lciii) Jar of Dirt

* * *

"You know you want to say it. We're even on a pirate ship!"

"Dean, we're about to commit arson. I'm not going to say it."

"Come on, Sammy, it's just six little words. Six! I'm sure your brilliant brain can process that much information. Look, I even got a jar right here."

"Isn't that dirt from the graveyard?"

"Call it a service fee. Either way, the ghost sure wasn't using it."

"That's because the guy's dead. Leave it."

"I'll give you a fifty after the job."

A grudging silence, and then a light rattle.

"I've got a jar of dirt."


	95. lciv) Magic

lciv) Magic

* * *

"To remove the Mark of Cain, Sam and Dean got really drunk and then went to Death and were like 'Dude, you're really sexy' and Death was all like 'I know' and- and- Poof! Magic because then they chopped off Death's head because Death was bragging. They realized that they unleashed a sexy lady upon the world and had to stop her from blowing everything up -"

"Who forgot to take the alcohol away from the kid? Jo?"

"Wasn't me. I think It was your turn."

Bobby takes one look at Kevin completely sloshed and drooling over the table. "Balls."


	96. lcv) Needles

lciv) Magic

* * *

"That's not going anywhere near my chest."

Sam's on the next table over, stretched out like a smug cat in the sunlight. "It's just a needle."

"Since when was it _just_ something?"

"Since we were in a perfectly normal tattoo parlor, getting perfectly normal tattoos."

"The needles didn't look so big in the pictures."

"Suck it up, Dean, and just let him give you the tattoo."

"If something goes wrong I'm blaming you."

"It's just a tattoo."

" _Just a tattoo, my ass._ Can't we just get some voodoo priest to lend a hand?"

Sam just snorts and covers his face.


	97. lcvi) Golden

lcvi) Golden

* * *

At first, he becomes a janitor because no one expects it. He brushes his golden hair underneath a beaten baseball cap as he lazily pushes a mop down the hallways.

Cleaning's easy. Mop dips in the bucket, floor is washed, bucket is dumped, bucket is refilled. Murky water taints the cuffs of Gabriel's jacket and he has to roll up the sleeves, leaving streaks of watery mud on his arms to dry. He doesn't bother to scrub them down; they'll just be dirty again tomorrow.

Gabriel's a janitor because it's easier to clean up other people's messes than his own.


	98. lcvii) Dying

lcvii) Dying

* * *

"What is it this time? You don't call unless you've exhausted all four of your other options."

"There's seven now," Dean corrects as he displays a bag, the bottom soaked with grease. "Onion rings from New Jersey."

Death plucks the bag from Dean's hands. "I'm positive that half of those contacts are dead or dying."

"About that, I was wondering if you could relay something to Bobby."

The deep-fried rings aren't half-bad, but Death has a reputation to maintain. "I am Death, not your callboy. I'd suggest that you ask your toy angel."

Death is gone before Dean can argue.


	99. lcviii) Red lcvix) Ablaze c) The End

lcviii) Red * lcvix) Ablaze * c) The End

* * *

They begin simple, just two vagrant brothers in a blemished Impala out to hunt things and save people. Yet an angel settles himself on their shoulders, now Dean parks the Impala in a concrete bunker, and _hunting things_ becomes vanquishing titans, and _saving people_ becomes rebuilding lives, and instead of _brothers_ they become _legends_ : fabled immortals and unusurpable deities.

When they lounge in the Impala with Kansas on the radio and five hundred thousand miles of mileage, red ketchup dribbling down Dean's chin and Sam shoveling down a burger, it never occurs to them that perhaps they are something more than 'just brothers'. It's an alluring sort of simplicity that drives them to regard the Devil with the same caution of a vampire. They view hustling pool with the same risk of a hunt. And it prompts them to believe in an end, one where they settle down.

That never happens. Perhaps it's instinct, perhaps it's routine, but without the hum of the Impala's engine and the whir of the road, Dean sleeps with a gun on the nightstand, and without the stars shining through the Impala's dusty windows and moonlight flitting across his eyelids, Sam can't sleep at all. But when the sun rises, their fears melt into implausible realities and they slip back into the familiar routine of hunting without a thought of why. And in the process, they unknowingly burn their names across the nation.

They're humble folk. The success of _saving people_ lights their faces ablaze with smiles. Maybe Dean once wanted fortune; perhaps Sam wanted fame. Now, such desires look childish after Sam and Dean's hardships in heaven, hell, and every realm in between. Now, hunting satisfies their existence. They never mean for the world to immortalize them.

But isn't that the point of heroes?


	100. Coda

Thanks for all the little somethings that have struggled through these oneshots with me, through the cringe, the angst, and the ugly. I've grown just writing and editing these drabbles-I've been able to focus on character and world-building like no other occasion I can remember.

If you just skipped to this A/N, I recommend that you pop back a chapter or a few and sample what there is. The Index is nearly a hundred summaries long, but I attest to the fact that there's something in there every author and reader will enjoy. If you're lazy and you want a rec, just PM me. I'll find-or write-a fic that might tickle your fancy if I can't.

I adore all of you. Special thanks to deadone1013 and RoseKenzie. I would have given up too long ago without you two.


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